Majin Wars
by Spartan Ophir 06
Summary: The Majin is more than a symbol of evil... It's meaning goes far deeper than that... It is the source of evil at it's core..." The Z fighters are facing a whole new face of evil, and are forced to fight in a way that they never have before.
1. Prologue

**So this is a story that's been kicking about in my head for a while now. Between my work commitments and the constant stream of endless moving about and re-settling, I've never really been able to afford myself the luxury of just sitting down and writing it. Chances are, in a matter of weeks, or months, the aforementioned luxury will be stripped from me again, so I decided it was time to make hay...**

**It is fairly unplanned, in that I never bothered to make too many notes, and it will be played by ear to a certain degree, but hopefully it will turn out how I want it to... Even if I haven't decided how I want it to turn out...**

**So yeah, it's my first attempt at a full length story, and it will probably take a looooooong time, but screw it, let's go for it shall we?**

**Thanks in advance. **

**Joe.**

*******

"Is it working?" Demanded the tall, figure. His dress immaculate, not a hair or fold of clothing out of place.

"Not yet Chairman! We're just having some minor problems, we shall be ready momentarily!" The voice was reedy and harangued. It belonged to an old engineer who was every bit as chaotic in appearance as the Chairman was neurotic. His frizzy hair wild and unkempt, shooting from his head at the oddest of angles, bar from his smooth crown, glistening with the sweat that betrayed his attempt at a calm demeanour. He was one of many similarly dressed engineers, all swarming over one machine like worker ants, desperate to please their Queen, lest her restraint be tested.

"How soon Nemanja? I have been patient until now, but I can't help but feel that you're taking advantage of my benign nature..."

"No! I swear to you Chairman, we shall be ready for you in just a moment!" The engineer was repeating himself. The chairman also noticed this.

"So tell me Nemanja. Did you follow my other request, or did you warn your family?"

The engineer's face froze, the picture of horror, the words he used next were no longer pleading, and the tone of a salesman trying to convince a customer had also disappeared. All that was left in Nemanja's voice was fear. Fear and desperation.

"My family know nothing of what is going on sir! They are still safe surely! I have broke none of your rules, and the machine is ready sir, it is! We just need to recalibrate one thing! I promise you sir, we have not missed our deadline!"

"Good." Said the Chairman, "I would so hate to have to kill them."

It was at this point that a klaxon sounded from the machine.

"My Lord! It's ready! The Machine is ready!" There was unadulterated glee present in the engineers voice. He was one step closer to freedom and safety.

The Chairman rose from where he had been seated, and joined the expedition force gathered on the walkway. It was unknown what was waiting for them beyond this gate, but the Chairman had ushered them into this new age of technological superiority, he would not miss out on the first use of their greatest development yet.

The group of travellers appeared out of nowhere, and were steeped in nothing but blackness.

The youngest of the force, a conscript barely out of his teens, was not comfortable with this situation at all. Despite the blinding darkness, he could tell he was indoors, but that the surrounding space was enormous. There were definitely solid walls on all sides, but there was also a lot of space dividing them.

"Cyalumes." A gruff voice behind him commanded. Private Zlatan fumbled in one of his many pockets, but managed to produce the plastic cylinder, which he bent and cracked, allowing it to immediately cast a dim red glow, that barely permeated the darkness in front of his face, nevermind lighting a safe path.

"Gogs!" the voice commanded again, this time with the barest hint of panic. Pte. Zlatan clumsily reached to the side of his head, found the switch, and shut his eyes. He could feel the brightness burning against his eyelids, had they not been closed, Zlatan would surely have been blinded.

The light dimmed, and Zlatan slowly opened his eyes, and was glad that he could see through the darkness, although not perfectly, he could at least see far enough to plan a route to walk through. The light from the cyalumes had been caught and magnified by the vision goggles, which then dispersed the light through his field of vision, allowing him to see.

Some people, however, remained blind.

"What is this place? What the hell is going on?" The Chairman's voice, normally a bored sounding drawl, had an edge of uncertainty. Voices were all Zlatan had to go by, and it would seem the Chairman was shitting himself.

"Sir," the gruff voice took the initiative, " we appear to be in some sort of cavern... I'd assume we're underground because of the darkness. Do you wish to see?"

"No captain, I enjoy sensory deprevation, and blindness happens to be one of my favourites! Of course I wish to see!"

Zlatan knew what was about to happen. He ducked down onto his knees, under the pretence of examining the loose soil type ground underneath, and managing to hide himself behind a corporal before the captain could look in his direction.

"Private Wenska! Your goggles, now!"

Zlatan allowed himself to stand slowly, continuing to take in his surroundings while the Chairman fumbled with the complicated headgear. Eventually the clumsy noises ceased, and the Chairman was talking again.

"Perhaps and bit desolate and depressing for our first location, but I think we can definitely agree that this place is not like any we are aware of on Earth...

Zlatan had to agree. He'd never seen anything like this in his life.

The walls, the floors and the ceilings all seemed to be made of a incredibly strange substance. It's texture was loose like soil, but also spongy. The weirdest thing was how the ground managed to almost heal itself. Zlatan gouged a small portion of it from the ground, and then turned his hand over, and allowed it to fall back down. Almost immediately after the 'soil' came in contact with the ground again, it seemed to ooze and seep its way back into its previous position, sealing over the damage he had caused without any indication anything had happened to it.

There was slight murmuring throughout the group, as every man either muttered to himself or whispered to one another. Obviously, Zlatan was not the only man who was less than entirely comfortable with this place. He distinctly heard one of his corporals mutter the phrase "alien" to a younger NCO.

"As disturbing as our new locale may be," said the Chairman reproachfully, "we are still an expeditionary team, so let our investigations begin.

With this he strode off purposefully, only looking slightly off balance with his new walking surface.

The rest of the group followed, all walking slowly and awkwardly. Each man experimenting with the floor, learning how to deal with its odd mixture of absorbency and springiness they encountered with every step.

The group travelled as one. Every time one of the researches wanted to stop and document a finding, they did so. Everytime the soldiers wanted to investigate a possible danger, the group followed behind slowly, but they had encountered nothing but walls so far.

A movement caught Zlatans eye, and he turned sharply before he realised what it was. There was a seam-like crack running the length of one of the walls which seemed to pulse, a concentration of the light along its length, disappearing around the corner.

These pulsing seams became more common the further they travelled into their new world. Some en were following along at the rear, marking their way back to the gate with fluorescent tape they pinned to the floor.

As they came into another chamber, Zlatan realised his eyes were starting to hurt, and as they'd travelled deeper, more light was emanating from the pulsing seams. He was commanded to remove his goggles, and see if there was enough light for the team to operate without them.

"Yeah, it's safe." His dry throat cracked with the effort of talking, he hadn't said a word before now today, and it was long after lunchtime now, his stomach was making him aware of that.

The chamber was lit entirely by the wall seams, which cast off an eerie deep pink, almost purple light. The walls seemed to have scorch marks on them but no other sign of damage, bar a hideous smell that seeped through the room. Zlatan brought his shemag further over his face to cover his nose, but the smell permeated through. Like burnt plastics and oils, it smelt horribly acidic.

"A sign of life, perhaps? Or at least some sort of activity..." One of the researches was muttering as he ambled past, seemingly confident that he was perfectly safe.

The group was thinning out, everyone walking their own separate ways, investigating at their own leisure. They'd seemed to reach a dead end, and were resting. Many of the soldiers taking the opportunity to administrate themselves, have a drink, or prepare some food. Zlatan fell back against one of the soft walls, almost bouncing back off, and slid down to a sitting position. Removing a battered packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one, relishing the sensation of relief as he inhaled his first draw.

He scanned around the room, taking in the activities of his compatriots, out of reflex more than interest.

It was then that he saw the Chairman for the first time in this light, and he took it in. Pietr Zlatan ha barely been out of conscript training when he was packed off to a close protection school, for having shown enough promise to be one of the Parliament's elite guards. He didn't expect to be assigned to the Chairman himself!

Zlatan took in his charge's features. The man was tall, not exceptionably so, but noticeably taller than most other men. He wasn't thickset, nor was he thin, but his limbs all seemed to have been elongated, like the man had been put on a rack and stretched slightly.

His face showed no real signs of age, but it was not youthful. His features were heavy and defined. A taught jaw line, with a perfectly straight nose. His neatly trimmed facial hair framing lips, now tight with contemplation as he ran his hands along one of the walls.

It was his eyes that people feared. There was no emotion ever present in them. No dilation of the pupils, no sign of life whatsoever, even in their dull brown colouring.

All in all, with his bearing and presentation, Chairman Dukovic was a man that gave the impression that there wasn't a single cell in his body that he didn't know exactly what it would be doing 18 months from now.

Zlatan shuddered. The Chairman creeped him out.

He had finished his cigarette and was stubbing it out, when suddenly it was swallowed by the ground. Zlatan looked on in shock as the butt then reappeared around 6 inches from where it had entered the ground, completely extinguished.

While he regarded this with wonder, he heard a shout of alarm, and turned around just soon enough to see an immaculately polished shoe fall off a foot that was being swallowed by the wall.

*******

**Hope you enjoyed, it was a bastard to write, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it... The first chapter's proving to be even more difficult...**

**Let me know what you think if you review**

**And I promise, Dragonball characters will indeed appear in the next chapter. It IS a Dragonball Z fanfic! Trust me..**


	2. Mondays

**Originally this chapter was very different, but I decided I wanted to re-do the shape of it, as I thought it would turn out better this way.**

**Cheers dude type people.**

"It's hard to believe in something when there's so little proof. How am I supposed to base a way of life around something that has no evidence to support its claims?"

"That's why it's called faith, sir. I don't need evidence to support my religion when I know in my heart, and truly believe, that what I'm being told is true, or at the very least, worth believing in."

So it was the same tired old debate, between two rookies to the theism game. I'm not an intolerant person, but sergeant Calhame's newfound piety was definitely something I found great difficulty in coming to grips with. He was a 29 year old man, who has only just discovered God. I can only assume he found him under a rock when we were on a routine reconnaissance patrol, the onset was that sudden.

I took a draw from my cigarette, mostly due to habit, and the desire for nicotine, but also to mask my hesitance to respond. I'd always found these kind of discussions to be filled with conversational landmines, that could go off without any warning, and destroy friendships, or hurt feelings. Diplomacy was the key here.

"Okay, so maybe I'm approaching this from the wrong angle. I'm not arguing that no god exists, that's another argument entirely, all I'm trying to say is, what makes you so certain that Christianity, is definitely the... " I pause for half a second, making sure to phrase my question correctly, "...correct religion... The definitive option?"

"Well that's an easy one sir," my sergeant replied, "because it makes sense. The way I see it sir, even if this man **wasn't** the son of God, he still had some pretty sound ideas for how to live our lives. The whole ' love one another' thing works doesn't it. Maybe not to a great extreme, but let's apply it to our day to day lives. If I treat my, our, men with respect and dignity, and generally avoid being an arsehole, they'll work for me. I have their respect by showing them it back. It's no different than your 'Karma' belief sir!"

Again, another draw from the cigarette. How I love them. Not only are they twenty little stress relieving morale boosts a day, but nothing quite gives off the impression of deep and intellectual thinking like a long draw and a creased brow, making an effort to make my eyes appear as pensive as possible. " I don't **believe** in karma Johnno, it just makes sense. Don't piss people off, and they won't have any reason to want to dick me about."

"And Christianity makes sense to me sir. Except I **do** believe in it."

How do you tell somebody that you've met the Gods? Sure, most of my story had become public knowledge, but even still, telling someone that you're a friendly acquaintance of the Overseers of the Universe is a bit of a bomb to drop...

Last draw. I glance about as I stub out the cherry, putting the butt into the tin box in my pocket. It wouldn't be wise to leave evidence of our presence out for anyone to find. Everyone else had finished whatever self administration they'd been doing. Some were joking about, others finishing off their own cigarettes, and the last few, the young, the so very, very young, were huddled into themselves, staring blankly at nothing. I knew what they were thinking, and it wasn't good. It was time to start moving again.

"Well then I envy you Johnno... The only thing I believe in is the good of man, and I have even less evidence of that than you do of your God."

I stood, shouldering my patrol sack in the same movement.

"Get the guys on the trackplan sergeant, we've still got another dozen kilometres to cover, and my feet aren't nearly blistered enough yet. Corporal Doyle, corporal Milligan, on me lads."

Two grizzled NCOs quickly ambled over to me. These were good men. Whenever I'd been tasked to set up this unit these two quickly came to my attention.

Doyle, a thickset man from the rugged hills of Ireland, grew up rough, as I understand it. It was a happy, but hard-earned life. He grew up on a farm with his father and two sisters, and as such had to work the fields himself a lot of the time, as his Father tended to the children. When the Majin forces had managed to gain a foothold in northern Scotland, he foresaw the danger and immediately joined his nation's Defence Forces. He was a stoic man, but made it abundantly clear he was simply here to protect his family. He had been selected as one of the best soldiers his nation had to offer. Son Gohan had developed him into far more than that still.

Cpl Milligan, on the other hand, was as near to the opposite of his compatriot as he could be. Growing up firmly in middle class in a small town in Northern Ireland, Milligan had had every advantage in life. A great education and upbringing that never left him wanting. Having decided that the comfortable life was far too dull for his taste, he and his college had come to the gentleman's agreement that they should part ways. With the threat of war looming, Milligan also decided his youthful exuberance could be put to better use elsewhere. Joining the British Army, he quickly shot to the top in terms of ability, becoming the youngest man to pass special forces selection in history, and continuing to impress and achieve while working operations for the SAS. Again, he was offered to me, and I snapped him up without a moment's hesitation.

They were the only Irishmen in Gohan's unit, and where severely outnumbered by their predominantly American and British allies, and as such were on the receiving end of many jokes and banter, to which they were always more than equal. Many a battle of sharp wits had been won by the Irishmen before the other men had even realised what had happened. I'd been pleasantly surprised by how well they got along, despite their nations political troubles.

"Sir" Both men stood to attention in front of me..

"Chill out." The men visibly relaxed. One more than the other.

"Jamie, seriously?" I asked

"What?! It needs done!" Milligan replied, removing his finger from his nostril before flicking whatever he'd managed to extract at a young private and chuckling.

"Fuckin' child..." muttered Doyle softly, despite the grin he was struggling to suppress.

"Riiiiight... Okay, you know the deal by now lads. I don't want any arseholes getting the jump on us. We're on our way home, the boys are gonna start switching off, thinking about how they're gonna be havin' mum's Sunday dinner in less than a week. It's your job to stop the shit from sneakin' in under our feet. Alright? Doyle, point. Milligan, you're on rear." I dismissed

"Nothin' new for you there then mate..." Mumbled Doyle as the pair wandered off to their respective duties, receiving a half hearted punch to the arm for his troubles.

I stifled a groan as I made my way out of the compound to meet with the rest of the troop. Just a few more hours and we'd be back in Germany. After a thorough debrief I'd be able to take the leave I'd been waiting on for 8 months and see my wife and child.

Two weeks R'n'R, then straight back to the frontline... The joys of a soldier...

"Clear front. Two Klicks from home turf, over." Came Doyle's voice over the radio.

"Roger, out." Gohan replied. 'Nearly there now', he thought, ' two weeks of being a normal 24 year old with my amazing wife and beautiful daughter..."

Gohan's thoughts continued in that fashion until he was interrupted by his scouter, a short tone to indicate an incoming radio call.

"Sir, we've got some action around 3 klicks due east,over" It was Milligan. "Roger, what's the scale, over?" Gohan asked. He checked the HUD on his Capsule Corp. scouter, checking to see if there were any friendly units operating in that area. Seeing none, he waited for Milligan's reply.

"Looks pretty full on sir. Picking up a lot of life signatures dropping off the scale. Big losses on one side, over." Gohan could hear the nervousness in his voice. Nobody liked the idea of a large scale loss of friendly forces, but Gohan couldn't allow them to wander into the middle of a firefight. He could feel them all waiting on his decision. "Roger, out to you. Sergeant Calhame, take a team of eight and take up a fire support position on the high ground west of the firefight and observe, over."

"Roger sir, out"

Gohan waited as the group flew off at top speed towards the hillock he had indicated. He watched as they took up position and waited for the sergeant's report.

"It's... strange sir. There's definitely two sides fighting here. Majin are in position south of the village, and the unknown forces are in the north-east, over"

Gohan weighed up his options further, and was still thinking whenever the sergeant cut across the radio again.

"Sir we've got multiple incomings, scouter reading on one his high and rising, request immediate sup..."

The line went dead with a buzz of static, and Gohan was immediately screaming orders. He'd realised what was going on, and sensed the power signature as soon as it revealed itself.

"1 section on fire support position! 2 section, go firm at the eastern compound, work through the town! 3 section on me!"

He took off running, not even taking time to notice if three section were following after all. He could sense the energies off the nine men he'd sent off earlier, and they were dropping, fast. By the time he'd got there, they were down to four already.

Rounds and ki blasts were flying through the air, splintering trees and kicking up earth and scorching the landscape. Gohan's men were putting down rounds in the direction of enemy fire. But they were massively outnumbered, and Gohan's HUD was indicating serious loss of men, he didn't even want to think of the amount of wounded. All the while Gohan's mind was racing, he knew he'd sensed _him_, he knew it!

He started firing off blasts at snipers on the roof of a nearby compound, all the while searching for his sergeant. He felt bullets smacking into his back as he scanned the area, but they had no effect on him.

Eventually he saw the sergent sat against a tree, defiantly firing from his sidearm, with the occasional weak ki blast thrown in. Gohan couldn't be sure, but he was certain that, even now, the battle hardened twenty-something was still taking down targets.

"Sir, shit sir... It's him" Sgt Calhame was spluttering, and Gohan could see the rivulets of blood at the corner of his mouth

Gohan said nothing, he knew what was coming, he'd seen it too many times already. He wasn't surprised to see the sergeant reach into a pocket of his combats, and produced a small, compacted prayer book.

"Give it to my wife... It'll help her... please Gohan.."

Gohan pocketed the book with a nod. Without saying anything further, he handed the dying sergeant his own weapon and ammo and left. He never used them anyway.

He turned his attention to the battle at hand. He could immediately tell he and his men were surrounded by the superior Majin force, and were dropping like flies.

He stepped past the bodies of his own men, and over a disembodied leg, numb to the shock. Nothing was new. He fired the occasional blast at advancing enemy, destroying them instantly. He spared no thought for their family or their lives, he was beyond caring. He wasn't Gohan anymore.

Videl referred to this mindset of his as his "soldier side"... Gohan knew better. His saiyan blood had taken control. He was now a true warrior, with his sights set firmly on his true enemy.

As he hovered into the air, he cast off his scouter. He only used it for the built in comms, but that would only serve as a distraction.

He shrugged off his patrol sack... It would only hinder his movements.

The warrior set his features cold, and looked dead into the soulless eyes of the enemy, cocking his head. He'd fought many like this creature before, but he sensed something different in this one. The realization hit him as he took note of the obvious recognition in the monster's eyes.

Gohan snorted. The Buus were common now. They seemed to explode out of the woodwork and fight with the Majin. They vastly outnumbered the Z fighters, who were stretched thin as it was, only the saiyans could hold their own against the alien creatures, and they couldn't be everywhere. Gohan was on his own against this one.

"Kid," Gohan sighed, " I could've sworn my father killed you years ago..."

Gohan settled into a fighting stance and powered up.

' I fuckin' hate Mondays..." He thought as he charged at Buu.

So we're gonna jump back a bit if you don't mind guys... About two and half years if that's okay with you. I don't think it's fair to have you thrown into the middle of my story without knowing what the fuck's going on.

So the basics. My name's Gohan... Well it's Son Gohan, but we're friends, right? I grew up as a fighter, and chances are I'll die as one too. That definitely won't please my mother, but what else would she be expecting? When the war broke out she could hardly demand that I stay in Satan city working the same shitty job (Junior President of Capsule Corporation's Leisure and Home Ware Research and Development division, since you asked) while hundreds of thousands of men went out to fight a war that made my very job almost redundant. Who the hell waits with baited breath to find out what amazing new features were going to be incorporated into CC's new range of TVs in the middle of a global conflict? The kinda people I'd gladly go out of my way to ignore, that's who.

The war... It's funny how easily that slips off my tongue now... Three years ago we lived in an ignorant haze of perfect happiness, not even beginning to imagine the kind of horrors that were within months of unfolding.

It happened pretty suddenly, none of us saw it coming. None of us realised that such a huge force of evil could all stem from one man. One inconsequential, completely unimportant man... Or so we thought...

When Chairman Dukovic was elected to the Glaivian government, no one really cared. It was the new leader of a small, former Red Ribbon, republic, whose main export was Ice sculptures for the parties of the indecently rich. And even then most of their premier artists emigrated to the more moderate climates. Dukovic first came to the world's attention when he announced many reforms in his own country, principally, the end of elections. No one's really sure how that one happened, but somehow he managed to destroy any serious opposition he may have had, and it looked like he was going to be the man in charge for the foreseeable future, if not longer.

Then came the rumblings of something more sinister.

It came to the attention of the United Nations that weapons tests were being carried out. In typical supremist behaviour, the UN didn't like that. The idea of a nation from the long oppressed north was less than welcome. The world had exploited their poorer neighbours far too much in the past, and it was more than common knowledge that the downtrodden tend to harbour some kind of a grudge over that... As you do.

My friends and family, all of whom I'm sure you know, started to grow concerned. If there was going to be a war, then we would probably have to get involved in some way. Perhaps not as active combatants, but as the guardians of the innocent, as we had all pledged to be.

At least that was the plan, until we were visited by an old friend of my father's... That was a pretty crap day...

"Come on Gohan! I **do not** want to be late for this! Erasa would kill me! You know we promised to go early and help set up! God, for someone so close to perfect it's the little imperfections that make you **impossible!"**

Videl was shouting. Videl always shouts. Her fiery temper was shocking to some people, but it was just another one of her little quirks that made me love her. Not that I'd ever tell her that.

"I know! I know! I'm coming now! Jeez!"

So Erasa's gotten engaged... Again. Naturally this is a cause for celebration. Apparently the last three times were just dry runs in preparation for this shindig to end all shindigs. She got engaged twice while she was in college, both times to soppy artistic type men, who she immediately fell in love with, only to realised two months before the weddings that she'd rather not marry someone with less chance of a successful future than a lobster freefalling to the bubbling pot.

The third engagement was my favourite though. Poor bastard was at the altar waiting. Didn't even realise what was going on when we saw Videl chasing after her blonde friend as she made a bee-line for her car, which was, of course, courtesy of her now dejected fiancé.

I actually thought that one would work. The dude was from a wealthy family and was poised to take the business world by storm, taking over where his father left off. I don't know if he was a nice guy or not... I don't even think Erasa knew... Or cared.

But this time was cause for concern. She was engaged to Sharpener. I don't think anyone saw this coming.

I'd always thought the guy was holding out for Videl, even after she and I got married. Turns out I was wrong. The dude just flirted with everything.

Sharpener did what we all expected. Football scholarship to North City University College, did a degree in sports management, and is currently a linebacker on the Satan City Fists reserve team, moving up in the world though, from what I've heard.

Of course we were excited, even myself. I could see this one working. Erasa had her own, albeit struggling, interior design business, but her work was good, and her customers happy, she'd make it through. Especially if they both achieved their dreams together. Could only be good for business to be married to '2008's Most Promising Young Player'.

I thundered down the stairs to meet the eyes of my wife's (HA!) furious glare.

" **We are going to be late." ** She spoke each word slowly, enunciating every syllable. Another of her quirks when she was mad. Temper diffusion was necessary.

So I flashed my grin, mumbled my apologies, and promised everything would be okay.

Her fury seemed abated, temporarily at least, so I pressed the advantage by sweeping her into my arms and flying off in the direction of Erasa and Sharpener's apartment. She screamed, and futilely banged her small fists against my chest, but all with a gleeful laugh spread across her features. Sometimes she was just too easy.

I was so busy staring into her smiling eyes I almost flew straight into my father, who'd appeared directly in front of us. Trust the old goon to ruin a moment.

"Hey guys!" was he ever not happy? " Sorry to show up like this but ehh... I kinda need Gohan for a while..."

I heard Videl sigh, and I automatically knew that, no matter what, if I went with my father now, for whatever reason, my reception would be frosty whenever I made it back.

"Why?" She asked. Her direct manner, no pleasantries. She was charming like that.

"Well uhh... The Supreme Kai's shown up... and he says he needs to talk with us... He said it was..." I watched my father struggle to recall the Supreme Kai's words, "... 'Of the utmost importance'... He sounded pretty stressed."

"I looked at Videl, feigning asking her permission, we both knew what I was going to do anyway.

"Fine, go." She muttered grudgingly. " But I want you back as soon as he's said whatever he has to!"

"No problem love. Make my excuses for me, and I'll be back as soon as possible."

I released her from my grip and she hovered beside me long enough to kiss my cheek, say goodbye to my father, and fly off.

I turned to my father, his face suddenly serious.

"Shit." I said, "we're in trouble aren't we?"

"All I'm saying son is that I know you're a grown man now, but I'd still prefer it if you didn't swear! It's not becoming of you, and you know your mother always says profanity's just a display of a lack of vocablurry!"

"It's vocabulary dad, and I know." We touched down on Dende's lookout, with my father still mumbling on in the background, having refused to answer my question about the extent of our troubles. I assume it's because he didn't know yet himself.

I'll admit I have grown a little gruffer since my teenage years, but I couldn't stay the goody kid forever. That disappeared pretty soon after I started college. A mixture of living in sin with Videl and a near endless stream of alcohol fuelled parties developed me into a regular 22 year old by the time I'd left. I'd been 'normalified' according to Sharpener. I wasn't a tearaway, I just didn't give off the impression that I was secretly Amish anymore.

We joined the group huddled around one of the lookout's gardens. The usual crowd was there. Vegeta, surly at having been kept waiting, Bulma, grumpy about Vegeta's surliness, and the rest of the gang, annoyed with Bulmas grumpy ranting about Vegeta always being surly... It was comforting to know there would always be some constants in life.

The couple's bickering drew to a close as me and my dad drew closer. Apparently, our absence was all that was holding everything up.

"Ah, Good," said the Kai, who I hadn't even noticed yet, due to his being hidden behind Piccolo, who he had been deep in conversation with, "everyone's here now. I guess we can begin."

We drew in closer, all eyes shifting to the purple skinned ancient. Except for Piccolo, who leaned against a nearby tree, his eyes closed. He would still be paying full attention.

"It's come to our attention in Other World that something... Unimaginable has happened... Something we should have been able to prevent, we should have seen coming, and we should have known about sooner... And our ignorance may cost us dear."

"Shit," Krillin muttered, " we're in trouble aren't we?" I couldn't help but let a small smirk show.

"I guess you could say so..." The Kai responded, apparently he didn't have any qualms with expletives, or just didn't seem to care.

The ancient took a breath to steady himself, and continued.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, Chairman Dukovic became the self appointed dictator of Glaivia almost 6 years ago, and since seems to be drawing the attention of the world's superpowers due to his... Indiscreet dislike for the rest of the world I guess... He's been amassing forces and strength, and slowly has spread his control over much of the Northern hemisphere, everywhere being conquered in the name of Glaivia, while the powers that be have sat back and done nothing in their arrogance. They refuse to believe the crippled Eastern Europeans could ever pose a threat."

I could see Vegeta growing frustrated already. He was only telling us what we already knew. The Kai realised this and ploughed on.

"Dukovic came to our attention much, much earlier than that. He's been on our radar ever since we first noticed his growing experimentation of the Majin arts."

Everyone was rapt now. We hadn't heard that word for a long time, and we were hoping not to hear it again for longer still... Most preferably never.

"He's been building followers also, all of his hangers on and minions have been adorned with the emblem of the Majin, and have aided him in his research. His ancestors were once the greatest enemies of the Kai, and he stems from the same bloodline as Babidi, although diluted through time. He's aware of this though, and wishes to replicate his ancestor's deeds."

"If I may interrupt at this point," Vegeta snapped, his teeth ground together, "don't you think it would have been pertinent to mention that there were more of these Majin freaks than we were aware of **before** now, or possibly around the time we were battling with that pink monstrosity?!" He questioned, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Buu. Vegeta never really was comfortable with Buu's continued existence, but he couldn't argue with Buu's innocent nature, and incredible power to be of assistance if it was needed.

"It would have been, yes, but we did not believe he posed a threat at that time. Just a fool fumbling in a darkness he would never understand. It was a massive oversight on our part."

"No shit." I couldn't help but agree with Vegeta.

"Anyway," the Kai continued, doing his best to avoid Vegeta's glare, "Dukovic has amassed a massive following behind him, all immersed in the Majin ways. It's a religion to them, and nothing is ever more dangerous than a fanatic.

"Quickly after coming to power, he seized control of military science. It became a horrible hybrid of magic and science, all in research of the Majin ways. He found a way to harness the magic into a weapon, so he could enslave others to his will, forcing them into his servitude. That's how he has managed to dominate the surrounding countries so quickly and quietly. There are no wars to be fought when you control a nation's will.

"It was three years ago when he made his most terrifying move yet. And we were blind."

This, I sensed, is when we were going to realise how deep we were in the shit....

"Using this weapon, and his own, now substantial magic, Dukovic opened a portal between this world, and the others. He and his Majin have been travelling through worlds and galaxies, constantly enslaving and gathering followers. All of this without our noticing. It was all done so quietly that we might never have found out until one of his Majin soldiers was spotted on our world. He was noticed by a minor Kai, but escaped before we could react. We searched all throughout our worlds, but found no trace of them ever having been there, just a few days ago."

Why was it suddenly so cold...It was still mid evening... The sun wouldn't go down for another few hours...

The Kai took a breath, which was noticeable shaky and looked each of us in the eye as he said, " There was one survivor. He was dying slowly, but managed to get the message to us. Dukovic and his forces had broken into the Universe's most impenetrable and inescapable prison, and taken control of all of those contained within. All of the greatest evils that have existed throughout time have now joined him in his unholy crusade. All of your most dangerous enemies..."

"What're you saying Kai?" Even my father was ashen faced and serious. This was bad.

"I'm saying... Dukovic opened the gates of Hell... And has control of all of those who resided in it.

**Reeeeeet?**

**First chapter done. It was a bit awkward writing in the first person, recalling the past, but hopefully it reads okay.**

**The bulk of the story will be told in the third person narrative, with the odd interjection of Gohan's first person...**

**I think I've bitten off more than I can chew....**

**Feedback is more than welcome, but I'm not gonna beg for reviews. If you've read it, and you can be bothered, just leave me a line or two of what you thought, criticism is more than welcome, as are questions or anything really.**

**Cheers dudes and dudettes**

**Joe.**

_**Butterflies And Hurricanes - Muse**_


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